Vows of Folly

By TAD BARTIMUS

I used to deck my halls with vows of folly: Dreams the house would be decorated early; the out-of-town gifts would be mailed before the postal deadline; and that my family would sit down together and make tree ornaments.

Those things never happened. The Frenzy Season always overwhelmed us. The faster I'd go, the behinder I'd get, feeling guilty and worrying. Would the presents be good enough? The food cooked right? The relatives get along? Would Uncle Jack get drunk again and fall into the Christmas tree? Would the toys be politically correct? Would Susie's sweater fit? Would we have enough money?

Expectation drives us nuts. Media pressure and advertising hype urge us to set our hostess bar so high we'd have to be Rockettes to kick ourselves over it. Millionaire hospitality divas led by that cursed Martha Stewart, she of the 101 ways to decorate a turkey carcass, hammer away at us 24 hours a day to do it better, faster, prettier.

We can't capture broadcasted perfection by mimicking celebrities or relive our childhood by imitating our mothers. If we chase memories, we come up empty handed. I used to wonder why my Christmas Eves weren't like my parents' parties, when our gaily decorated house overflowed not just with family and friends, but goodwill. Why, when I stuck to identical traditions, did my Christmas Eves feel so different?

Because people change. We die, move, marry, grow up, grow apart, forget. I count myself lucky to have enjoyed plenty of happy times; to have been blessed with parents who loved me and made me feel special and safe. But that was Christmas past.

As the holiday season peaks, it's time we let go of the angst that comes with expectation. So what if we swore we'd never use that plastic gravy boat again? So what if a napkin has a red wine stain on it? Put it next to the chipped dinner plate and seat a guest with bad eyesight at that place setting.

Why not dwell on the blessings of the season instead of its drawbacks?

You get to see your sister from Omaha, the one who always makes you laugh. You cook better sage dressing than your husband's mother. It's little Billy's first Christmas. You have the whole week off from work. The kids are home from college, slamming doors, opening the refrigerator a hundred times a day, tracking muddy footprints down the hall. Isn't it great to be surrounded by their chaos?

Relax, enjoy, savor, fahgeddaboudit. If you like Velveeta instead of Stilton, buy it. Why not get generic crackers on sale? Decent wine in the marked-down bin? Go for it. Skip that expensive living wreath and instead, tie a red ribbon on the doorknob and call it a day.

Now I give myself permission to do whatever I want. I can cook a turkey or eat a peanut-butter sandwich; trim an 8-foot evergreen or settle for a Safeway poinsettia in a 4-inch pot; open presents on Christmas Eve, Christmas morning or Dec. 26th. I can even do without presents. Together, my husband and I negotiate the emotional minefield surrounding Christmas with the goal of enjoying it.

As you extend best wishes for peace and goodwill to family and friends this holiday season, make sure you keep plenty for yourself.

© 2002 The Women Syndicate

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© 2002 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com